


Xenobiology and Purple Space Cats

by InvertedPhantasmagoria



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Culture, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Alien Technology, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Excessive Xeno, Food Issues, Galra Empire, Headcanon, Mild Gore, More tags to be added, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other, Prisoner of War, Reader Insert, Redemption, Saving the purple space cats~, Touch-Starved, Unintentional torture, Xeno, look if these tags aren't giving you a pretty good idea of my intentions here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-03-18 04:30:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13674315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvertedPhantasmagoria/pseuds/InvertedPhantasmagoria
Summary: This is really just the same thing I do ineveryfandom.I love Reader Inserts. I love Galra. I love xeno. This is my excessively headcanon based interpretation of a reader insert character saving some Galra and discovering lots of cool xeno. LOTS of alien culture and biology stuff abound, as does giving some purple space cats a pretty good chance at redemption. Reader is a good person who's doing their best, and they do alotof good for the Galra.Honestly, it's a fun story about Galra culture and second chances, and I hope y'all find it as fun as I do~UPDATE: PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE





	1. After the night when I wake up, I'll see what tomorrow brings

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dear reader who decided to look at my fic! :D This is going to be a fun mess of xeno and headcanon-ing, and I really hope it comes out to be something enjoyable~ 
> 
> First chapter starts out pretty slow, and is mostly just establishing the situation between reader and the first Galra. There's going to be more and more xeno as the story goes on, so if that's what you're here for, be patient for aroooound Chapter 3~! 
> 
> Anyway, let's get going to the fun part; the fic! O3O

Winding up aboard an alien castle ship in space was one of the last things you’d ever expected to happen to you. True, Earth knew a lot more about what was out there in space than its officials were willing to let on to the general public, but you had _not_ imagined that you’d get this close to real, live aliens in your lifetime, at least. 

After running into some kids who had snuck out onto the roof of the training center you were stationed in, you’d somehow wound up riding a blue lion machine into space. . . and things had only gotten weirder from there. And that wasn’t even counting the aliens. 

Honestly, space was a dream come true for a xenobiologist like yourself. There was so much _potential_ , so many beautiful creatures to be discovered and studied, you absolutely couldn’t get enough. 

Considering that you weren’t one of the people who could pilot the space lions, though, you were more than a little out of place. The aliens (the sadly _human_ looking aliens) had seemed willing enough to let you stick around, especially considering that it was apparently too dangerous to go back to Earth, but you still felt rather on the outside of them all. 

One of the main upsides, so far, had been that the Alteans were mostly willing to let you study them, and they’d been very cooperative in answering your questions, even some of the more invasive ones. 

With their race long dead, the two apparently saw this as a chance to pass on knowledge of their species to the world, and well, you were happy to listen, and happy to learn all you could. 

A race of of slime based creatures, shapeshifters by nature who could change their forms at will, Alteans were gentle and peaceful. They had little biology that was unique to them, preferring to copy and evolve based on what they’d learned from others, and their culture was one of peace. 

It was fascinating, that you were actually speaking to real aliens, able to learn things like how the texture of their skin was inherently a bit slick, how much energy it took to shift between forms, and you were content. 

The other humans aboard, now called Paladins, were plenty kind to you as well. They too were far away from their homes, after all. 

You got along well with the kids, even better with Shiro, the one other adult human on your little voyage, and that was where the interesting part began to happen. 

Shiro had been kidnapped by another species of aliens, a warmongering species called Galra, and held by them for a year. You were drawn to him for information, at first, only later discovering how well the two of you got along, and you couldn’t deny that you were intrigued by his past. 

After spending quite a bit of time talking to Shiro, the main thing you’d concluded was that the poor man needed a nap. He seemed stretched thin, worn to the limit of what a human could take, and you wished that you had the authority to force him to get some rest, honestly. 

Nevertheless, he seemed rather happy to have someone to talk to, some way to explore the foggy memories of his time with the aliens. You were simply happy to listen to anything he could remember. 

And then you saw a Galra. 

Two of the ones the Paladins had defeated earlier had snuck aboard the ship, but their efforts to take over had been thwarted by the Paladins once again, ending in the capture of both of them. 

The moment you laid eyes on fluffy purple fur, dark lilac skin, pointy ears and gorgeous yellow eyes, you fell harder than you could imagine. 

They were _perfect_ , the most beautiful creatures you’d ever laid eyes on, worlds beyond the admittedly tame Alteans you’d been able to study so far. Every part of you itched to interrogate them and dig out every bit of knowledge about their glorious species that you possibly could. 

The feeling was like when you’d first learned about aliens, the same electric sense of curiosity and passion that had driven you to become a xenobiologist back when you were just a teenager. 

Galra were nothing short of stunning, and you were _determined_ to get up close to one and take in everything you possibly could. 

“Hey, Allura, I have a question. . .” Honestly, you were hesitant. You knew already how much the princess hated the Galra; she’d already insisted that the two be disposed of as soon as information had been extracted. 

“Yes?” Allura responded, turning away from her position at some piece of complex Altean tech to face you. 

“Well. . . you know I’m a xenobiologist, and that studying aliens is kind of what I live for. And that I’ve already been pestering you and Coran enough,” you started, trying to prepare yourself to face what would surely be an unhappy princess. “What I’m saying is; we need information, and I probably know how to get a lot better and a lot more than your machines could. I’d like to try to talk to the Galra, is the point.”

Allura’s face immediately fell, turning stony as she considered the idea with a glare. “You know that’s _dangerous_. There’s a good reason why we’re using our current method instead of just– waking them up and starting up a friendly chat! I’m sure we’ll be able to learn what we need to this way.”

“But what if I could get more out of them? I could learn the weaknesses of the species without them even needing to talk! You know I’m an expert at this; I’m probably the best Earth has at studying aliens.”

Allura’s frown deepened, wrinkles forming in her forehead. “We’d have to wake them up to do that, you know.”

“Yes, I know. But please please please let me talk to them! You’re going to shut them down when we’re done anyway, so what harm can it do? Just let me have a couple little chats with the fluffy one and I swear I’ll be able to figure out something good!”

“Oh, alright,” Allura sighed. “I suppose there’s nothing else for you to do here, is there? And I guess. . . it’s worth the risk to get information. I’ll tell Coran to wake one up for you to speak with, but– it will be under our terms. I don’t want you getting hurt over something this silly. It really isn’t worth your effort to speak to something like _those_ , though.”

“I know. And I’ll definitely be careful! It would be such a waste to just dispose of them, though. Who knows what I could get out of them if I actually try to talk to one instead of using the. . . memory thing.”

Allura reluctantly agreed raising one hand to rub at her forehead, looking rather exasperated with the situation. 

You honestly couldn’t blame her. The poor girl did lose her home to the Galra, and it wasn’t like you were expecting her to turn around and accept them. No, that was your job, and you were more than happy to be the one to study the Galra on your own. 

So you excused yourself, happily making your way through the castle to talk to Coran. Allura didn’t need to worry herself about this; it was your idea and you’d be the one to handle it. 

On the other side of the castle, where the prisoners were being held, Coran had already received Allura’s orders. He told you, while making a face like he’d eaten something rotten, that he’d moved one of the Galra into a holding cell where he could safely wake up and speak to you. He’d be restrained, Coran noted, and you’d be behind a pane of highly durable material the entire time you spoke with him. 

It was more than you’d expected, and you were practically _glowing_ when you thanked Coran, very nearly shaking with excitement. Ever since you’d seen the Galra for the first time, you’d been ready for this, desperate to get close to one of the gorgeous creatures. 

You stepped into your part of the interrogation room smoothly, eyes immediately fixating on the massive, slumped over figure in the middle of the sectioned off part of the room. 

He was absolutely _huge_ , all purple fur and bulk, lanky limbs spread around him in an undignified sprawl where he was left to lay. He wasn’t wearing the armor you’d seen him in before, a tight, black garment cutting into his fur instead, and his arms were cuffed behind his back, legs cuffed together so he wouldn’t be able to fight. 

Looking closer at the creature through what appeared to be glass, you took in his massive, fuzzy ears, sharp, stern features, and almost cat like appearance. He was handsome, really, in a strange, alien way. 

You were staring and you couldn’t stop yourself, taking in every detail of his beautiful face and surprisingly elegant bulk. 

There was something clearly predatory about him, the strength in his long limbs and thick torso. He looked _strong_ , and you could only imagine what kind of damage a creature like this could do in a fight. You’d heard that this one was some kind of general, and he certainly looked the part. 

Looking closer, you noticed something interesting; the Galra was missing an arm. What you’d thought was both arms cuffed behind him was actually one being nothing but a stub, cut off near the shoulder. You didn’t know of many animals that could survive losing limbs without intense human intervention, something that most likely spoke of this one’s strength. 

You were so busy taking in the alien’s beauty and power that you barely noticed his one eye cracking open. 

His brilliant gold eye met yours, and even with no iris or pupil, you could tell that he was looking directly at you. 

Before you could react, the Galra was struggling, straining his cuffed arm and trying to force himself to his feet, a low growl rising in his throat that you could hear as clearly as if the glass wasn’t there. 

His ears flattened, body tensing, and you couldn’t help but stare in amazement at the way his fur rippled as his muscles tightened and twitched. Lips curling back to reveal wicked looking fangs, the Galra growled deeper, rattling through his chest with a low, angry tone. 

“Easy, easy, I’m not here to hurt you.” You were talking before you quite knew what you were doing, the words slipping out like you were talking to some kind of frightened animal instead of a hulking alien. 

The Galra strained at his bonds, thrashing and jerking as if he thought he could get himself free. It struck you all at once that he had to be more _scared_ than angry, helpless and trapped in a strange place with an alien staring at him from behind glass like he was some kind of specimen. It had to be terrifying, even for an alien as imposing as him. 

“You’re alright,” you soothed, acting on impulse more than anything. “I won’t hurt you. I’m just here to talk, I promise.” 

Somehow, you weren’t afraid. Even as he growled at you and bared his teeth and thrashed like a wild thing, all you felt was a mix of curiosity and concern. You didn’t want this alien to feel frightened, didn’t want such a remarkable creature to have to suffer when you could help. 

You sat down on the floor, trying to look as small and non-threatening as possible, raising your hands in what you hoped was a universal gesture of surrender, looking up at the alien as he towered above you. 

“All I want is to talk, okay? I won’t do anything to hurt you. Can you talk to me?” you asked, “Are you capable of speech?”

There was a tense moment, the alien staring directly at you as he finally stilled, cuffed arm still twitching against his bonds. You were almost starting to think he didn’t understand you, that perhaps this Galra wasn’t able to talk, until he growled again and started to speak. 

“You dare underestimate me? The Galra are capable of more than your pathetic race.” His voice was low and rough, sounding half like the growl was catching around his teeth, and your eyes went wide. 

“Oh wow! You can talk! That’s amazing! Have you understood what I’ve said so far?” you smiled, scooting as close to the glass as you could get. The alien growled again, yanking at where his one arm was apparently chained to the floor behind him, and looked at you with something like disdain. 

“Of course I have. Are you going to assume that I’m _stupid_?” he hissed, fangs baring as he spat the words. 

“Sorry, sorry. I’ve never met a Galra before, though, so I really have no idea what you guys can do.” Somehow, you weren’t intimidated, even as the nearly ten foot tall alien growled at you like he wanted you dead. 

“One day, your whole race will know very well what the Galra are ‘capable of’; when your pathetic planet is ruled by us.” With those words, he cracked something like a grin, mouth slitting open to reveal even more of those sharp, white teeth, oversized canines poking out in front. 

“I could believe that,” you said, still feeling perfectly at ease. “You look awfully strong, and if other Galra are anything like you, you probably could take over my planet.” You were already wondering what kind of military these beautiful creatures had. “But anyway, I’m here to talk to you. I just want to know some things, okay? Nothing hard, promise.”

The Galra’s growl changed tone, into something that you thought might have been a laugh. “You think I’ll give up information to you? Humans really must be foolish creatures. I won’t be telling you anything.”

“Well, it’s not like I can force you,” you laughed, amused at the very thought of attempting that. “For now, though, all I want to know is your name. That’s not confidential, is it? ‘Cause I’ve just been calling you ‘the galra’ in my head, and I bet you’d rather I have a name to refer to you by.”

He huffed, looking away from you with an expression that you could only describe as stony, deliberately resisting you.

“Okay, so you don’t wanna talk to me. Could we make a trade, then? If you tell me your name, I’ll get you something to eat; whatever you want. I doubt the Alteans have bothered to feed you anything, right?”

“You think _food_ will tempt me to comply,” he hissed. “The Galra go through harsher times than this in basic training. You have no idea how powerful we are.” He sounded almost proud, like his ability to sacrifice basic comfort just to hold back his name was a good thing.

Honestly, you had a feeling that he was just being obtuse on purpose, not because he cares about you knowing his name, but because he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of his obedience. It reminded you of the behavior of a domestic cat, so proud and insistent on doing things his way. 

“Alright. Is there anything you will talk to me about, then?” You were determined to make some progress here, no matter what he did. 

“Not a thing. You have no place trying to question me, and I will not be cooperating with your pathetic efforts.” The Galra visibly looked down on you, ears flicking up in what was clearly a gesture of dominance. 

“Mmhmm. You don’t wanna talk to me about anything, got it.” So talking definitely wasn’t going to work. Oh well, you could still study the beautiful creature from this close up, and that was more than enough to make you happy. You shifted your weight, settling in to watch the Galra for a while, and hopefully learn something even without being able to get close.

You took in the Galra’s proud posture, his digitigrade legs (like the back legs of a cat), shockingly graceful for their size, the lanky set of his limbs, the broadness of his shoulders and thickness of his chest, everything you could see about the alien that might give you some clues. 

Already, you’d formed an assumption that Galra were either carnivorous or omnivorous. They had the look of large predators, like tigers or bears, and you wished you could get close enough to check his teeth. 

Honestly, there were a lot of things you wanted to check. You wanted to feel his fur, examine the texture of it and figure out if it was protection from cold weather, or just a leftover genetic trait. You wanted to examine those fluffy ears, learn about how his hearing was compared to your own. You wanted to look at his hands, see what kinds of grasping they were meant for, how sharp his visible claws were and what they were for. 

You were just fascinated with the Galra, and honestly content to sit there and watch him _exist_ for as long as you could. He was beautiful, absolutely stunning, and you couldn’t be more entranced. 

“What are you staring at?” he growled at last, having grown increasingly uncomfortable with you watching him for long minutes. 

“You,” you answered bluntly, not wanting to lie, “I’m a xenobiologist, which means I’m interested in you. That’s why I want to talk to you, you know; I just want to learn about your species and biology and all that fun stuff. It’s kind of my job, and _definitely_ what I’m in space for.”

The Galra sneered, making a face and yanking at his cuffed arm. “You’re much too far below me to be thinking of studying me. It will be you who’s the specimen once the Galra take over. The Galra are superior to your race in every way, and you’ll soon learn that well.”

“Whatever you say,” you smiled, watching how his face moved as he talked, the flickers of teeth and tongue. “I’ll see when it happens, I assume.”

He made a face, looking distinctly displeased, and you couldn’t help but snicker. Galra seemed to basically be big cats, and the expression this one was making was definitely bringing to mind a kitty whose fur had been ruffled, all offence and disgruntled rage, eyes squinted almost shut. 

“Okay,” you said after a few more minutes of silent watching, the Galra apparently set to ignoring you, “I think it’s time I leave for today.” You pulled yourself to your feet, shaking one leg that had started to tingle. 

The Galra said nothing, pointedly looking away from you, and you took that as your cue to leave. Coran was on you with endless, worried questions as soon as you’d shut the door behind you, and you were stuck reassuring him that absolutely nothing had happened, especially not anything bad. 

“It’s just the first day. He’s in a strange place, surrounded by people who he probably thinks want to hurt him. It’s no wonder he doesn’t feel like talking to me yet. It’ll take some time, and that’s okay. It’s not like he can do any harm chained up like that. Honestly, the poor thing is probably afraid, so _please_ don’t do anything to make it worse.”

It definitely wasn’t the first time you’d found yourself fussing over a potential specimen, but it was definitely the weirdest yet. 

The alien in question was a ten foot tall cat man who could snap you in half, and yet, somehow, you were worried about if he was frightened. It really couldn’t be helped, though. Your feelings for the Galra, even going on such little information, were already amazingly intense. 

This one was _beautiful_ , so far beyond what you’d ever expected of real life aliens, and you couldn’t bear to let either one of the two the Paladins had captured be “disposed of” just because Allura wanted them gone. 

. . . 

Sendak had woken up aching all over, worse than anything he’d been through in training. His whole body felt stiff and pained and _wrong_ , like something had gone wrong in how he was put together. Every muscle felt stretched and torn, and there was a dizzy feeling making it hard to even open his eyes and face whatever had happened to him. 

Memories quickly flooded back, of losing his ship, failing his mission, being captured and beaten and left in a strange, blue cell. 

Sendak’s eye had snapped open, even as he had to forced himself to ignore the way the world spun and swayed, and what he’d been met with was possibly even worse than being captured in the first place. 

One of the humans was watching him from behind what appeared to be a pane of glass. It’s eyes were wide, awestruck, and it was staring at him like he was the most interesting thing it had seen in ages. Irritation, indignation at being treated like a specimen immediately prickled. 

Sendak forced himself to his feet, struggling and yanking at the chains that held his good arm to the floor, kept his feet cuffed together. The humans had taken his prosthetic, left him with nothing but a helpless stump twitching in the empty air, and that alone sent a wave of something distinctly vulnerable washing through him. 

Brain pounding with a feeling of helplessness, Sendak thrashed and tugged at the chains, desperate to get free and break through the glass, do anything to stop being so useless as resting in a cell. 

He was growling, low and rattling through his chest like an obvious indicator that he was agitated, even if the rest of him wasn’t showing it. 

The human was saying something, crooning to him in a tone Sendak had never heard from a Galra. It felt clearly patronizing, though, and he struggled all the fiercer for being treated so pathetically. No human had any place talking down to him, even he couldn’t quite hear through his panic. 

Eventually, his aching body forced him to give up, slowing in his struggles as his chest heaved for air it couldn’t quite find. Maybe the Altean was trying to poison him through the air, get rid of him the easy way. 

The human’s words were coming through more clearly now, soft reassurances that it wouldn’t hurt him, all spoken in a disgustingly tender voice that no Galra would have been caught dead using. Sendak bristled, caught between the aching vulnerability of being chained up and down a limb, and the anger that he was being treated in such a way. 

Sitting down, the human made itself small, raising its hands in a gesture of surrender that even Sendak recognized. 

Somehow, it felt like the human was trying to pacify him, even though it should clearly be able to see which one of them was in danger here. If he could just get free, he could shatter the glass and take the pathetic creature hostage, bargain his way out on the weakness of humans. 

“All I want is to talk, okay? I won’t do anything to hurt you. Can you talk to me?” it asked, “Are you capable of speech?” Sendak bristled, furious that he was being talked down to in such a way. 

He responded, finally managing to say something over the growl still clogging up his throat, and the conversation continued. Sendak quickly had come to the conclusion that this human was an annoying one, and he was being proven to be increasingly correct about that guess. 

The offer of food was so offensive that Sendak could _feel_ his fur bristling with rage. He’d barely been awake yet, and the human expected food to be sufficient to tempt him? Did they think he was nothing more than a pawn barely out of training? Being underestimated so greatly was an entirely new feeling, especially by a creature so small and soft. 

The interrogation was almost impossible to believe. After everything he’d tried to do to the human’s group, all it wanted to know was his name. 

It would have been funny, if it wasn’t so bizarre, and Sendak found himself bracing for something much, much worse. There was no way the Altean princess would send this joke to him unless there was some awful trick in store. There was no way he’d be allowed to get away this easily. 

Surely, the only thing that could make sense was that this was a ruse. As soon as he said the wrong thing, this pathetic attempt at fooling him would be over and the real pain would begin. 

Muscles in his stump twitching, Sendak had felt himself tense. He had to stay on guard, had to avoid getting caught up in whatever kind of diversion this human was meant to be. If he wasn’t careful, he’d only take more damage when the Altean revealed what she’d truly do with him. 

“Victory or death” echoing in his head, Sendak had to swallow down the feeling that he was utterly pathetic. He should find a way to off himself, spare himself the humiliation of being the Altean’s plaything. 

When the human revealed that it was a xenobiologist, Sedak immediately knew why he was alive. He really _was_ a specimen, now. 

It would likely turn out to be no better than being a pawn of the druids, he thought, shuddering faintly at the memories of the time he’d had to have the arm installed. Sendak never wanted to be that helpless again, not after everything he’d gone through to make sure he’d always be on top. 

Forcing himself to hold military-straight posture, Sendak held onto as much of his dignity as he could, chained up and stared at like a piece of meat. He wouldn’t give this human the satisfaction of knowing his name, not while it was one thing he could hold over it without risking injury. 

The human spent an unpleasant amount of time just watching him, staring with those strange eyes and barely moving a muscle. 

Disconcertingly, it reminded Sendak of a predator eyeing potential prey, and for just an instant, he felt a cold shiver run down his spine. Surely, it was the weakness of being chained up getting to him. It _had_ to be. 

It eventually left, slipping out of a door behind the glass, but Sendak remained fluffed, fur standing on end from agitation. It was the strangest prisoner of war experience he could have imagined, and he found himself distressingly uncertain. It would have made sense if he was tortured, hurt, but instead, all that had happened was one pathetic human’s questions. 

Left alone at last, but under no misconceptions that he wasn’t being watched, Sendak allowed himself to sit down, legs buckling under him in a moment of weakness that he _had_ to attribute to something the Alteans had done to him to make his body feel so weak and shaky. 

The floor was cool under him, the room much too large around him, and Sendak was distinctly aware that there was no place to hide. He was chained dead center in the room, with no wall to lean back on and no corner to get into, and a sick little part of Galra instinct left over from ages past bristled at how out in the open he was when he was already weak. 

It didn’t matter. What would happen would happen, and the only thing he should be thinking about was how to kill himself and end the humiliation. 

Honestly, it wasn’t like he’d have a place in the Empire to go back to, after every failure he’d already suffered. Sendak knew well that no Galra would want him back now that he’d done so much to _lose_. 

He had no place in the Empire now, no one who would accept him as a commander. The bitter feeling of losing everything he’d worked for rose in Sendak’s throat, choking him with rage. It was all the humans’ fault that he was suffering so, that he’d failed in the first place, and, and–

Sendak flicked a dry tongue over his lips, forcing himself to breathe and assess the situation rationally. It was his own fault. He’d been weak, and there was no excuse for that. He couldn’t try to deny it. 

Now that “victory” was unreachable, the only thing left for him was death, Sendak thought. He knew well the rules of the Empire. 

All he could do was wait for the Alteans to get rid of him, to be experimented on and cut up into a piece of study for the xenobiologist, to have every bit of anger the humans had taken out on him. 

Sendak knew how soldiers treated their prisoners, and while the thought of pain did little to spark fear in him, the humiliation of being stuck in such a position in the first place made him wish he’d been killed to begin with, died in battle instead of being forced to go through such torment. 

Hopefully, Haxus had met that sort of fate, instead. The second-in-command was a good soldier, someone who didn’t deserve to go through shame worse than death like his commander already was. 

It would be much more honorable if he’d been killed in the battle, instead of captured and turned into an Altean’s plaything. Sendak wasn’t one to care about his men beyond the scope of battle, but Haxus, loyal, determined Haxus, had earned better than such a shameful fate. 

Closing his eye, Sendak allowed himself to rest. He still ached from ears to toe, pain still throbbing through his flesh, and he was tired. 

It was unlikely that he would sleep, but he needed to at least recover some energy. Whatever was coming next was guaranteed to be painful, and it was the least he could do to be properly prepared. 

At the very least, he’d hold onto his dignity.


	2. And demons come from outside, fortune comes from within.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is here! Honestly, this chapter is kind of an intermission, and the _real_ action will start in chapter 3. I have. . . plans for what happens next~  >:3c Updates might continue to be a bit slow because of school and other obligations, but I will always be back, so please bear with me until I can get another 5,000+ words written. 
> 
> This chapter is mostly about reader's continued fascination with the Galra, and the _very_ first cracks starting to appear in Sendak. I have big plans for this story, and the more I think about it the longer it gets, so I might have to add a "Slow Burn" tag soon. . .

As much as it killed you to wait, you forced yourself to hold back until a full day later before visiting the Galra again. It had taken some definite begging for Allura to allow the perfect creature to stay alive, but you’d done it, and you’d even convinced her to let you keep going with your planned interrogations, which might take longer than you’d initially expected.

The Galra was turning out to be a stubborn one, refusing you from the first day you’d met as if you had nothing but bad intentions for him. It was sad, especially when you thought of what Allura wanted to do.

Well, considering that he was high ranking military, it made sense that he was going to be tricky to deal with, difficult to make progress with.

You had a theory, though, that a combination of the Alteans’ cruelty and your determined kindness would get somewhere. Every creature you’d ever encountered, if they had anything resembling intelligence, was grateful for care. Anything from snakes to cats could be won over with kindness.

And it was likely, considering that Galra were probably similar in intelligence to humans, that they could be swayed just the same.

What you had to do was keep being nice, keep visiting him and offering food and attention and kindness until he snapped, until his captivity got to him and he decided that it was better to accept someone who cared.

He was definitely smart enough to figure out that being in your good graces was better than being at the mercy of some very unhappy Alteans and Paladins, so it was really just a matter of how long it would take, how much gentleness you’d have to pour into your little project.

When you thought about it, it sounded a bit cold, but it was the truth. You genuinely wanted to help him when everyone else on the ship wanted him dead, and even if you wanted information in exchange, that was _far_ from a hefty price to pay. You’d protect him if you could, treat him as well as you would anyone you cared for, so long as he decided to cooperate.

Going down to the containment area of the castle, where Coran was again waiting to lecture you on exactly how dangerous interacting with a Galra was, you had something of a plan in mind.

You poked your head into the Galra’s containment cell, where he sat straight and proud in the dead center of the room, still chained down, and looking possibly more irritated than the last time you’d seen him. His handsome face was screwed up in a wicked scowl.

“Good morning!” you chirped, plopping down in your spot from the day before; as close to the glass as you could possibly get.

The Galra just glared at you, and you smiled. That would change before long, you were sure. No intelligent creature you’d ever encountered could hold out against kindness for long, and you were positive that even massive, vicious Galra would be no different.

“How are you feeling this morning? I don’t think any of the Alteans did anything to you while I was gone, but you can tell me if they did. I don’t want my specimen getting hurt, after all!” You laughed at the last part, hoping it would be obvious that you were joking around.

Making a sour face, the Galra refused to break eye contact. You had a feeling he was trying to be intimidating. It wasn’t working very well.

“Okay, so you don’t want to talk to me yet. That’s okay. I’ll wait as long as it takes, you know,” you smiled, crossing your legs and settling in. You’d honestly be content to sit here for hours, just watching him.

But this time, you’d brought a notebook, one of the few things you had from Earth, blank save for a few last minute notes on what would have been your next mission. Pulling out a pencil from your bag, you started writing, rapidly detailing everything you’d noticed about the Galra.

Speaking of the Galra, he made a rotten face when you started writing, lips curling up to reveal white fangs, sharp and long.

You honestly had to resist laughing. To any normal person, the sight should have been scary, but all you saw was an annoyed cat expressing its displeasure. He actually reminded you a bit of the lions and tigers you’d studied back on Earth, made the same unhappy faces when upset.

“Don’t like me taking notes?” you asked, perfectly civil, and trying to be friendly. The Galra growled in obvious displeasure.

“I do not appreciate being treated like your specimen,” he said, voice low and rumbling. “You have no right to be _watching_ me like I’m some kind of pinned insect available for your study. It’s repulsive.”

“Yeah, I can understand that. I don’t think it’d be fun to be treated like a specimen either. How about this; if you talk to me, I’ll put the notebook away. You don’t have to answer anything confidential, just simple stuff like name and age, easy things, not important at all to the war. You’ll get what you want ‘cause I won’t be sitting here writing, and I’ll get what I want because I’ll finally have some answers. How does that sound?”

For a moment, it actually looked like the Galra was considering it, his eyes squinching shut in what looked like concentration. These beautiful aliens had the most expressive faces, so similar to those of humans, and you were well and truly entranced by their very existence.

“I suppose I could allow you that,” he growled at last, “on _one_ condition. You will answer my questions as well, willingly.”

“Okay, sure. I don’t know a whole lot, though, I’m warning you that. I’m pretty much a tag along here; I don’t even think the Alteans like me all that much. Not too useful or anything,” Inside, you were ecstatic.

“Very well. Now, you will put that book away, and cease treating me like I’m yours to study.” You did as the Galra said.

“Got it! The notebook is gone!” you said, showing him your empty hands to prove it. Hopefully, you’d remember everything well enough, and wouldn’t have to ask him the same questions twice or risk losing precious information when you wrote everything down back in your room. “My first question is, what’s your name? Can you answer that?”

The Galra paused for a moment, looking like he was choking down his pride just to answer you. You had a feeling he was, for all this one had tried to act like he was above everyone in the castle, including yourself.

“Sendak,” he said simply, mouth curled down into a scowl.

“Okay, Sendak. I’ll remember that. Thank you. Knowing your name will be a _lot_ better than just calling you ‘the Galra’ in my head. Next, can you give me a vague idea of your ranking. Not, like, specifics, if that’s something you can’t say, just if you’re important or anything like that.”

“I am a commander in Lord Zarkon’s empire. That means I have power far beyond what an insect like you could ever imagine. I’ve conquered plants more important than yours with ease,” he replied.

Sendak looked rather proud of himself with that, and you were already coming to a conclusion that military might meant a lot to the Galra. You’d already known that their society was one of war, so it was likely that rank and strength had a lot to do with a Galra’s worth where they came from.

And if Sendak was telling the truth, if he was really a high ranking commander like he said, he was a very valuable Galra indeed.

“So you’re important, then? Not some disposable soldier?” you asked, voicing your guess in the most blunt way you could.

“Of course I am. I’m one of the most valuable pieces of Lord Zarkon’s army. My strength is such that I have been trusted with the most vital of missions.” He spoke as if he was bragging, possibly letting a little more slip than he wanted to out of sheer pride. At least your Galra was easy.

“That’s impressive. You definitely look strong. Can I ask about the arm? Like, how you lost it or what kind of technology was used to heal it.”

Sendak bristled at that, fur literally poofing up in what was clearly some mixture of annoyance and unhappiness. His ears flicked back ever so slightly, and his lip curled again, showing those sharp, white fangs.

“That is not something I wish to discuss with you,” he hissed, fingers of his good hand curling angrily against the floor. Okay, so the arm was clearly a sore subject. You could work with that. At least you knew now that losing limbs wasn’t normal for Garla. That was information, something you could add to your notes, and that alone was better than nothing.

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to tell me,” you soothed, raising your hands in a pacifying gesture. “Let’s change the subject. How old are you? Are you mature for your species, older, something else?”

“I suppose I would be considered an adult for your species. I have no idea how long your pathetic race lives, but I’m about halfway through a Galra’s expected lifespan. A strong one’s, that is.” He smirked a bit at the last part, as if he was proud of the fact that he was tough enough to survive.

Just from the past few questions, you were getting a pretty good idea of what Galra were like. They valued strength and their empire, likely didn’t have much of a sense of individualism, and were dedicated to being useful. Power meant everything, and any sort of weakness was a sore subject. Sendak was surprisingly easy to read, for all he tried to be tough.

You were also starting to conclude that Galra life sounded pretty messed up. From the sound of things, the only thing that mattered to them was strength, and that did not promise much prosocial behavior.

Already, you were starting to assume that Galra didn’t have the best time of things, that even a strong one like Sendak would have suffered.

“I’m sure you are very strong,” you said, encouragingly, “Just one more for now. What do you eat? I have the feeling the princess hasn’t bothered to feed you yet, and well, I don’t want you to suffer here. If you tell me what’s edible for Galra, I can try to bring you something.”

Sendak made a face again, shifting a bit where he sat and looking annoyed. “Don’t bother. You won’t be winning me over with _food,_ and it’s unwise to expect a Galra to be so weak,” he growled.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m not trying to imply that you’re weak, I just don’t want you to be miserable. If I can bring you something, I want to. Is that okay, or is it some insult to Galra to want to help?”

Looking as if he was considering it for a moment, Sendak scrunched his eyes shut, flicking his ears in jerky motions. He was reminding you more and more of a temperamental cat, instead of the hulking alien he was, and it was getting more and more amusing to you how hard he tried to be tough.

“Fine. Galra are omnivores. We can eat just about anything. As long as it contains proper nutrition, it doesn’t matter what you bring.”

Oh, so you were right. Galra seemed cat like, but an omnivorous diet seemed more like a bear. They were definitely large predators, but it made sense that they’d be able to eat a wider variety of foods; if anything, having a broad diet would make them better survivors, more capable of adapting to their environments and staying alive no matter what food was available.

“Okay, so I’ll try to get anything I can. Thank you for telling me. It’ll definitely make things easier if I don’t have to get the Alteans to arrange anything special.” You smiled, visibly pleased with the information.

“My turn now, human,” Sendak growled, voice a low, intense rumble. You couldn’t stop watching how his mouth moved when he spoke.

“Fair. I did tell you I’d answer your questions too. So, what do you want to know?” you said, as open as could be. You had nothing to hide from the Galra, especially considering that there was little chance Allura would let him leave alive. There really wasn’t anything to lose.

“What do you plan to do with the lions of Voltron? Do you honestly expect to challenge the Galra empire?” he asked, staring at you with open intensity. You willingly met his gaze, completely relaxed.

“No idea. It’s not my choice what we do with those things. I can’t fly one, so it’s really up to Allura and the Paladins. Like I said, I’m kind of just along for the ride. And the aliens. Mostly the aliens,” you replied.

Sendak narrowed his eyes, looking irritated. “What do you plan to do with me? For what purpose are you keeping me alive?”

“That one _was_ my choice. I had to practically beg the princess to let me talk to you. She wanted you dead, but I wanted to study you. It’s pretty much what I live for, so I didn’t want you to be just thrown away. Galra are amazing, and I couldn’t miss the chance to get so close to one.” You had no reason to hold back the truth. It didn’t matter what Sendak knew about you. It was better to be honest, anyway, in case he caught you in a lie.

“So you intend to keep me as a _specimen_?” he hissed, muscles twitching and ears flattening against his head.

“Honestly, yes. You’re the only Galra I really have access to, and I want to learn more about you, so yes. I intend to study you. I’m sure your people would do the same if the situation was reversed.”

Sendak was quiet for a moment, glaring at you viciously. “. . . You’re right about that. Just know that you will be punished for daring to treat a Galran commander in such a repulsive manner,” he sneered.

“Okay. That’s fair. I’ll be happy so long as I get to know more about you, so I’m willing to take that risk. I’m really going to do my best to keep you alive, so I guess it’ll be worth it if that comes back to bite me. Oh, and I’m really sorry if all this offends you; it’s just what I have to do.”

He went quiet after that, looking away from you with ears flattened to his head. It was obvious that Sendak was done talking to you, too annoyed with your answers to want any more conversation, so you politely excused yourself, gathering your discarded bag and pulling yourself to your feet.

You left Sendak in his cell, feeling mildly guilty about allowing such a beautiful, intelligent creature to be chained up like a common animal.

You wished you could do more for him, wished you could talk on common ground instead of in an interrogation. It would be much better to learn about his people from a peaceful standpoint, instead of making him feel like a pinned insect, and if Allura was more open to it, you would have definitely done something to make him more comfortable.

However, even though Sendak seemed determined to be as surly and unhelpful as he could be, you still had a feeling that your plan would work.

He was an animal, just like you and every other creature you’d studied, and he’d already shown you that he had feelings. If you could dig yourself in, figure out what he wanted and twist it in the right way, you might be able to make some progress with him.

You remembered an old quote about every animal being grateful for kindness, and you smiled. You _would_ make progress. You would get closer to this fascinating Galra. You would earn his trust, little by little if you had to.

It was a bit cruel, yes, but it was better than letting Allura kill him. There was so much potential to learn about his species, to obtain information that no one else in the galaxy had, and you were not going to give up. Just because the rest of the humans seemed to want him dead and out of the way didn’t mean that you had to play along with it all.

Whatever you had to do to keep Sendak alive, to get the information you wanted, you were willing to do it.

. . .   


Sendak spent the next few days in misery. After everything he’d been through with your little interrogation, the sheer amount of frustration sent coursing through him, he could barely stand to sit still.

He needed to train. He needed to get up and move and work himself to the bone in order to keep his body strong. The Alteans hadn’t even allowed him to move beyond the few paces his chains allowed, yet, and even then, his ankles were chained together, leaving him unable to move right.

It was frustrating, humiliating, to be treated like an animal, to be chained down and forced to stay still. Sendak’s whole body itched with the urge to get up and move, but he had little choice. It wasn’t like he could allow the Alteans to see so much weakness in him, to figure out that their pathetic attempts at containing him were making him miserable.

He _hurt,_ body aching both from the actual pain of being left hunched over in an awkward position for days at a time and the mental agony of knowing that he was helpless and beaten, kept as something to study.

His stump was worse than anything, tingling with pain as it hung in the open air. There was no way to cover the wound, no way to hide his weakness, and Sendak hated it. For so long, the injury had been kept covered by his fake arm, it felt _wrong_ to have it hanging out in the open.

There was no place to hide in the cell, no wall to lean against or corner to duck into, and that made everything all the worse. Galra instinct was geared towards preferring small, dark, hidden places, Sendak knew, and being left out in the open while vulnerable was a great punishment than the Altean knew, a greater torture than his captors had yet realized.

Even worse was that you kept visiting him, showing up every day with more annoying questions, unwilling to leave him alone.

You were as persistent as a stinging insect, determined to carve out every bit of information from him that you could. You treated him like some kind of specimen, staring at him from behind the glass with unconcealed wonder, and Sendak couldn’t stand it. He’d been so strong, spent so long on top, that being treated so pathetically ruffled his fur in all the wrong ways.

Honestly, Sendak was wishing more and more that he _would_ be killed. It would be less humiliating than being treated like a human’s pet project, at the very least, and he wouldn’t have to live every day with his failures.

(He’d never admit it, even to himself, but being watched like an experiment reminded Sendak all too much of the druids, the one thing that even he didn’t want to have to be at the mercy of.)

The only upside to your constant visits was that he had a way of measuring the time, keeping track of how long he’d been trapped.

So far, it had been about five days, all spent miserably. Sendak knew he had only himself to blame, that it was his own failure that had ended in his capture. For being weak, he deserved nothing less than death. For not achieving victory, his only option was to suffer. That didn’t mean he enjoyed being treated like a human’s plaything, though, not in the slightest.

On day three, he’d asked about Haxus, inquiring as to what you’d done with the other Galra who had attacked with him.

“I don’t really know,” you’d said. “I’ve convinced the princess to keep you both alive, but you’re the only one I’ve been allowed to talk to. I guess he could be being kept somewhere else like this, but I wouldn’t know.”

So Haxus was alive. That in itself was disappointing news. Sendak wouldn’t have wished torture and humiliation of this level on the weakest of his kind. A swift death was much more merciful, killing the weak before they could have to suffer in their failure. Sendak himself would have preferred it.

But no, the humans and the Alteans had to keep them alive, force them to suffer and live with how they’d failed. It was crueler than Sendak had known humans could be, even if they weren’t aware of it.

Hopefully, they were keeping Haxus unconscious. The second in command would have absolutely despised being in such a position.

With little choice as to what to do next, Sendak sat where he was, thinking dark, angry thoughts about what he’d do the humans if he ever got out. His body was cramped and aching from not moving in far too long, muscles protesting every continued moment of inactivity, but Sendak refused to give the Alteans the satisfaction of seeing him pace.

That, and he was too chained to move very well.

Sendak growled to himself, too antsy to hold back the unhappy noise. Galra instinct was truly becoming a hindrance, the sick little feelings that insisted he move or fight or hide or _anything_ but sit out in the open.

Not only that, he was starting to get hungry. True to your words, the Alteans hadn’t bothered with any kind of offerings, and while Sendak was far from surprised (he would have done the same thing to such a hated prisoner), five days without any sustenance was starting to be a problem.

He was well trained by the Galra empire, and could go weeks without food if he tried, make it through the harshest times without breaking, but, a lack of proper fuel made him sluggish and tired, with too little energy to keep his bulk in working order. Galra of his sort were meant to need quite a bit of energy, and it was no wonder he was starting to feel weakened.

Fortunately, considering that he was chained up and not expected to do anything but sit, a lack of energy was little problem.

Sendak could easily ignore the hunger pains, the little pangs of complaint his stomach was giving him. He’d grown used to having as much as he needed to eat, yes, but he was still strong enough to endure.

The truly unfortunate thing was that he had absolutely nothing to do, nothing but sit in the center of a blank, empty room and think. Even sleeping was hard, as vulnerable as he couldn’t help but feel, so Sendak really couldn’t manage much other than thinking long and hard.

And the worst part, the part that made him feel vaguely sick with anger, was how much he’d been thinking about _you._

As the only bit of entertainment he’d had since being captured, you were the newest, most immediate thing for his mind to focus on. At first, it has been as simple as pouring over what you said in your little visits for any hint as to how to escape, but it had all too soon developed into legitimately pondering your existence and what you planned to do with him.

It was pathetic, the kind of thing that made Sendak wish he had the freedom to do something to _shake the thoughts out of his head,_ and yet, he was so bored in that little cell that wondering was all he could do.

You, or anyone else, had yet to do anything cruel, anything painful enough to take his mind off of the boredom, and that was where the problem truly lay. It would have been easier if he’d been hurting, if he’d been stuck wondering how he could ever manage to survive.

Being left alone with his thoughts was somehow worse, somehow so much more frustrating than being tortured like he would have done.

Sendak could fortunately pin his wandering mind on the lack of pain, justify things if only a little bit by explaining them away. It made sense, that he was starting to react badly. Isolation never did good things to anyone, and it made sense that he’d get a little odd after being left alone for so long.

On the sixth day you came in, Sendak was sitting as still as ever, trying to ignore how his body ached to move. He refused to give in so easily, to show the Alteans that he was weak. He was determined to reflect well upon the Galra empire even in death, even if you decided to kill him.

“Good morning,” you smiled, making an absolutely obnoxious face. Sendak could feel his ears flicking back in annoyance already.

When he said nothing, just sat as still and stony a a sculpture, you continued. “So, I’ve been talking to Allura about getting you something to eat, but she’s pretty determined not to cave. She says I can’t do anything ‘nice’ for you until you give up information. . . and I think she’d find a way to stop me even then. I’m trying, though, I promise!”

The Altean princess was a much tougher captor than you, and Sendak had figured out long ago that the only reason he was still alive was because you wanted to play around with a new subject for your research.

It was disgusting, and Sendak continued to wish you would have just killed him, instead of just forcing him to live with his failures.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than irritate me?” he growled, getting snappy from irritation. Your eyes went wide for a second, probably from the shock of the sudden words, but you were smiling again in seconds.

“Not really. You’re the most interesting thing here, honestly. Galra are _amazing,_ and you’re the only one I get to talk to.” Wonderful. The only reason he was still alive was because a lesser species wanted to play science experiment. Sendak wished he could bite through his tongue and choke.

The only upside to your irritating visits was that you hadn’t brought the notebook back yet. Sendak hated feeling like he was nothing more than a subject of research, and that thing was by far the worst for that.

You eventually settled into something like silence, sitting quietly and watching him with an intensity that was disturbingly similar to a predator.

Sendak closed his eyes, a quiet sigh leaving him. What a fate for a mighty Galran warrior; alone in a cell, the plaything of a lesser species. Lord Zarkon would have had him dead for not finding a way to end it all yet.

Fortunately, Sendak wasn’t stupid. He’d figured out after the first time that struggling would do nothing about the restraints other than make him look like a fool for trying, and unlike a lesser Galra, who may have fought and thrashed until the humans laughed at them for it, Sendak at least managed to keep some of his dignity through staying calm.

It was pathetic that he even had to bother with preserving his pride.

After your initial questioning, you hadn’t pushed for much more, probably able to tell that he wasn’t going to cooperate. You’d seemed perfectly content with knowing a few mundane details about who he was. Sendak had tried to interrogate you, pick up some kind of information that he could take back to Zarkon if he ever escaped, but you apparently knew next to nothing about Voltron or its Paladins.

Of course, Sendak thought, he’d wind up with the one useless human in the castle, the one who didn’t know a thing about the only worth its species had. It was frustrating, more so the longer he had to deal with you.

And that wasn’t counting how increasingly uncomfortable Sendak was getting, chained up in his plain little cell, all alone save for you.

He’d barely slept since he’d been captured, too stressed to relax, and the lack of rest was starting to get to him. In basic training, he’d been deprived of sleep for up to a week at a time, and this was starting to feel distressingly similar. It was the only real torture Sendak had experienced since he’d been captured, and somehow, it was probably an accident.

(You wouldn’t want any harm to come to your precious specimen, after all, Sendak thought with a bitter note, growling low in his throat.)

He was cuffed in a horribly uncomfortable position, too, unable to do anything about the exposed stump of his arm, horribly vulnerable in the cool air. The wound itself was a sore spot, and not covering it was worse.

Good arm chained behind him, the most Sendak could move was scooting back towards the hook in the floor that he was chained to. There was just enough give that he could stand up, maybe turn around, but he wouldn’t be able to reach the glass no matter how he fought or struggled.

He’d tried on the first day, to break through and snap your spine, but even his most vicious efforts had done nothing to crack the chains.

His feet were chained together too, effectively hobbling him and preventing him from even pacing in the small but of room he was allowed. That was somehow even more frustrating, the utter lack of movement that had left Sendak feeling tense and pulled tight from too little activity.

In short, he was miserable, and having an irritating human chattering on just out of reach had his nerves feeling even more fried. Sendak _deeply_ wished he could smash through the glass and choke you, shut up that annoying mouth once and for all, and yet, he was stuck.

So he stayed quiet, pointedly ignoring you in the hopes you’d get the message and leave him alone, hopefully for good  
. . . 

Nearly a week in, and you hadn’t made much progress with Sendak. He was, if anything, getting more stubborn, more sullen, and you were starting to feel like things would be more difficult than you’d expected.

Allura too was getting in your way, not allowing you to go to the full lengths you wanted to tempt your prisoner, and you couldn’t help but feel rather bitter. All she wanted was for the Galra to be dead, and she wasn’t willing to give them the slightest bit of chance to become something other than the enemies she wanted them to be, wouldn’t give you a chance.

Sendak was sort of horrible, yes, all glares and growls and wickedly sharp fangs, but that wasn’t stopping you from having hope for the Galra.

You’d spent hours a day every day sitting in front of his cell, talking to him and trying to show that you were doing your best to help. Sendak had done nothing but hiss at you and ignore your best efforts.

It was getting a bit disappointing, that the creature you were so entranced with was so dismissive of you, and you found yourself wishing that there was a way to get closer, to get the breakthrough that you wanted.

The hardest part was staying patient, keeping yourself from storming into Sendak’s cell and getting all the information you wanted the hard way.

But Allura was set on you keeping your distance from the “dangerous” Galra, and honestly, you were sick of waiting. There was far too much to know, and far too little time before the princess got annoyed with him.

And that still didn’t cover the matter of the _other_ Galra. There had been two that had invaded the castle, and you hadn’t had a chance to even look at the other one yet. That was beyond frustrating, especially considering that you had no way of knowing where he was or how to save him. It was all too likely that Allura would have him put down while you were still distracted by Sendak.

You really just wished you knew more about Galra. If you had any idea what their weak points were, maybe you could figure something out that would get through to him, something that would be effective in cracking through that grouchy, hateful outer shell you’d seen so far.

And that was how you wound up slumped over in the eating area, head in your arms as you slouched over a table, quietly complaining to yourself about how Allura never let you do anything fun.

“You okay?” A shake at your shoulder coupled with a familiar voice alerted you to Shiro’s presence, and you glanced up at him miserably.

Shiro had a worried smiled stretched across his face, looking somewhere between amused, concerned, and tired. Well, he always seemed to be tired, so that one wasn’t anything new to you at this point.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, allowing yourself to slump back down. “The Galra is being difficult. He won’t talk to me, and Allura won’t let me do anything that will actually work.

Shiro’s smile faded fast, vanishing into something that seemed vaguely nauseous. You cringed. The poor man always seemed to be stretched too thin, caught between one too many traumas, and you hated slipping up and somehow making him feel worse.

“Sorry, sorry. What did I say wrong?” you sighed, and Shiro sat down beside you, looking half ready to collapse.

“It’s just. . . I think I know that one. From when I was captured. It’s. . . a sore subject, you can imagine,” Shiro said, sounding far away, like his mind was still back with the Galra. You frowned, forcing yourself to sit up.

“Yeah, and I’m a dick for bringing it up. _Really_ sorry about that.” No one ever seemed to pay attention to how stretched thin Shiro was, piling more and more responsibility onto him as if he could take it all.

You were determined to be different.

“It’s okay. Do you want any help on getting through to him? I might know something, considering. . . where I’ve been.”

“Yes! Please! Allura keeps getting in my way and not letting me do what I want. _Please_ convince her to let me feed him or something. I bet I’d do a lot better at the whole interrogation thing if I could do things my way.” You were sure that you could do it if you could only do things the way you wanted to, treat the Galra in a kinder way than Allura would allow.

“Okay, okay. I’ll try to work something out,” Shiro said, smiling at you with something like amusement. Your obsession with aliens had always been a point of hilarity to the Paladins, who didn’t understand just how deep your passions ran.

After thanking Shiro profusely, you scurried back to your room, re-energized in the fight to get Sendak to like you. It was possible, you knew it was, and the information a friendly Galra could share was amazing.

There were so many things that you could learn about Galra, so many things that you could figure out. It was everything you’d always wanted.

Back in your room, you took out your notebook, scribbling down that day’s notes on what Sendak has said and done that day. You tried to keep careful, detailed notes, afraid that when Allura finally decided to get rid of the Galra, you’d have nothing else left to understand them by. Oh, you hoped the Alteans would remain willing to let you study them.

You had written down all kinds of theories, everything from how sensitive you expected his ears to be to what kinds of food he’d enjoy most. It had been nothing but speculation, so far, and you wished it would soon be more.

Hopefully, Shiro would accomplish what you couldn’t, and give you the chance to get closer to your Galra.

 


	3. IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE

So. It's been a while. In the time that I've been away from this fic, my views on the Voltron fandom have changed massively. First of all, I've given up on canon. The way that the series is handling the Galra is irritating at best, and I'm done with it. I made this announcement on my Galra blog a while ago, but any Voltron-related content that I post in the future will be entirely headcanon; as in, I'm going to cherry-pick what I like from canon, and throw the rest in a metaphorical wood chipper. The Galra I'm going to be writing about from here on out are the way  _I_ think canon should have written them. 

And yep! You read that right! I will still be writing Galra stuff. I still love them, and I still love the concept behind this fic! However, it's been a while since I touched this. I got kind of scared of the fandom and froze up, and i haven't been able to make myself come back in a while. However, I've gotten some more confidence, I've taken a college-level biology course, and I am  _ready_ to truly flesh out my headcanons on this wonderful species!

So now it's time for the big choice. I can keep going on this fic; take what I've written so far and try to twist things into something that will better match my current skill, or I can keep the same general concept, but start over and give myself a fresh go at what I'm doing here. I have a draft of chapter 3 almost done, and the total word count for the story, including that chapter, would be around 17k words. I don't really want to throw that away, even if I would be starting for something better, but at the same time, I'm not feeling too fondly towards what I've written here. I'm still considering what I want to do, and this fic probably won't be updated until I figure that out. Thus, the best thing y'all can do if you want to see more fic is tell me what you think on the matter! As in, whether I should scrap what I have and start over, or try to save what I've already put so much work into. 

Thank you all so much for your patience, and I hope I'll be writing here again soon!!


	4. I’m beginning now to see, What you must have thought of me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I have decided to continue this story! :D I've narrowed the plot down to a potential two directions, and I guess we're just going to see where it ends up. This chapter is more connecting than anything, and I kind of felt like I was doing a bad job of writing in the whole time. It's been in my drafts since August, though, so at this point it just needed to get _done_. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope the next update will come much sooner! Thank you to everyone for sticking with me, and hopefully, I'll feel much more inspired for this story in the future.

Time passed slowly in his cell, and with no way to tell what was going on outside, Sendak was miserably bored, frustration growing greater with every passing day he was left to rot in the open, uncomfortable room. 

Aside from you checking in on him every so often, he was alone with nothing to do, left staring at white walls and shifting with irritation. 

He was thoroughly sick of the situation, but wishing for death just to end his time as a prisoner wasn’t exactly getting him anywhere. Disgusted as he was, Sendak had little choice but to sit and wait for something to happen  _ other  _ than the annoying human pestering him another time. 

The Alteans apparently had refused to give in. You complained of being unable to offer him food or similar resources every time you visited, acting as if he would  _ care  _ that you supposedly wanted to help. 

It was pathetic. You treated him like he was some kind of child, unable to survive in the kind of conditions any Galran soldier had been trained for. 

It didn’t matter that he was hungry, that he hadn’t slept properly since his capture, that everything about the open cell bristled instincts he’d barely known he’d had; weakness was unacceptable for a Galra of his power. 

Your attitude was nothing short of infuriating. 

However, all the time alone was giving Sendak more than enough opportunity to consider how to get out of this situation. Death still seemed like the best option after his failures, and yet, prickling at the back of his mind was the idea that maybe,  _ maybe  _ there was another way out. 

Accommodating, curious, and friendly as you were, you were weak. In theory, it wouldn’t be difficult to trick you into at least giving him a chance to off himself. You seemed like you’d take the chains off the instant you thought it would give you a better chance to study him. The problem was the Alteans and the other humans, the ones who were smarter than that. 

And that was where an entirely new idea had sprung to Sendak’s mind. One that, at first, he’d rejected out of the pride of the matter alone. 

But when his capture showed no signs of ending, when you continued to appear like clockwork with no news of a change, Sendak decided that it was at last time to try something desperate, shameful as it was. 

In theory, if he played nice for a little while, acted like your pathetic attempts at kindness had won him over, there was a small chance it would convince the rest of your species, and perhaps the Alteans, that he was  _ safe,  _ that he’d given up on the Galra Empire in order to save his own skin. 

It was a pathetic resort, one that should have made him retch to even think of. No Galra as highly stationed as him should even have to pretend to be disloyal, and yet, it was seeming more and more like the only option. 

When you visited next, Sendak choked down his pride. 

You sat down in front of the glass, as idiotically excited as ever, smiling widely at him with blunt teeth and bright eyes. 

Instead of ignoring you, this time Sendak forced his posture to relax, forced his ears to flick forwards in a gesture of matching openness. He leaned forwards a bit, pretending like he was interested in your presence. 

You noticed. You noticed in an instant, scooting closer with a wonderstruck expression. Sendak reminded himself that he had to do this.

“I see you’ve visited again, human,” he said, making sure that his voice was even and low, lacking its usual vicious growl. It was disgusting, to lower himself to appeasing a lesser species. Sendak wished that he could reach forward and snap your neck instead of  _ playing nice.  _

“Yeah! Hey, are you going to talk to me now?” Your eyes were so openly wide, so unguarded. It made him sick. “I’ve been hoping you would! I didn’t bring the notebook or anything, so please go ahead.”

“I’ve decided to cooperate with your research,” he said calmly, not allowing the disgust to seep through. “It is, of course, selfish. I have decided that my own life means more than my loyalty to the Empire.” Treasonous words fell from his lips like tar, thick and choking. It felt wrong to even say those things, fake as they were. Even hoping you’d buy the lie. 

You didn’t act like you saw any deception. Your smile stretched further, and your posture shifted to something downright delighted, leaning forward with hands on the floor, face almost pressed against the glass. 

“Wow, really? Thank you! Can I ask you questions now? Just simple stuff, nothing about your Empire or anything,” you chirped. 

“You may ask what you please. I no longer have any reason to conceal anything.” With everything he said, Sendak felt sicker. This was downright shameful. Ruse or not, he shouldn’t have had to lower himself to the lies. 

The only questions you asked, though, were about basic biology. 

Sendak was almost mystified. He’d come just short of giving you permission to interrogate him about the Galra Empire and its plans, and yet, all you wanted to know were simple anatomy facts. If it had been anyone but  _ you,  _ he would have been convinced that he was being mocked. 

And yet, you only seemed to get more and more excited with his answers, even when all he knew to say were rough estimates on things like if his hearing was more sensitive than yours, or what he typically ate. 

The questions ended after only a few minutes, your eyes still shining with sickening excitement. Sendak had to grit his teeth to avoid growling. 

“Alright, last one! Does it bother you to, um, be kept in here? You’ve been chained up for quite a while now, and it’s not like Allura is letting me do anything to make it more comfortable. . . Anyway! Is there any problem with this, besides the obvious?” you asked, starting to ramble.

It should have been easy to lie. He’d decided on playing along with what you wanted, get on your good side in order to get out of this, but actually admitting how uncomfortable he was bristled against every bit of training he’d had. Even worse, there was a fair chance that the rest of your little group would use the information against him, regardless of you. 

It was in that moment that Sendak realized he was thinking like he was concerned about what you could do to him. 

_ Pathetic.  _ The cell had to be making him go  _ crazy.  _ No respectable Galra would ever cave to a situation like this. His instincts were getting the better of him. Too much time alone in the little cell was messing with him. 

He could take it. Even if the Alteans figured out how to make him  _ five times  _ as miserable, he could take it. He would  _ not  _ fall to this. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Abruptly, your voice broke him out of those thoughts. “You don’t have to answer. I should have thought that question through better. I’m sorry.” You sounded like you were genuinely remorseful, genuinely concerned that you’d made him uncomfortable with your question.

Sendak gritted his teeth all over again, bristling. 

“So! Moving on,” you continued, as if you weren’t once again accommodating your enemy. Sendak had to actively remind himself that this was his plan, that playing along with you would get him out of here. 

“Um, I don’t know if I should be telling you this. . . I don’t want to upset you or anything, but I also kinda feel like you should know?” you rambled, and he had to resist snapping at you. “Anyway, what I’m getting at is that Allura gave me permission to visit the other Galra! The other one that was captured with you. They’re still alive and okay, apparently.”

So Haxus was still alive. How disappointing. Haxus was the sort who’d much sooner be dead than left in such a pathetic position, Sendak knew. 

He could already imagine what would happen when you pestered him. 

It would be kinder to kill Haxus when he made his escape. The both of them would never be welcomed back to the Galra Empire, and Sendak himself was facing execution for his failure. Putting Haxus out of his misery himself would be one final act of mercy to a skilled second in command. 

“I see,” Sendak said, forcing himself to sound agreeable. You would want an answer like he was pleased, difficult as that was to fake. “And I suppose you’ll be studying them as well?” Of course you would. 

“Yeah, I hope so. I mean, with any luck  _ neither  _ of you will have to be locked up like this.” You smiled, completely trusting. Completely foolish. 

You left soon after that, still excitedly gushing about meeting the other Galra. It took legitimate effort from Sendak to keep up his act, to keep it together even after you left. He was surely being watched, and it would ruin the ruse if the Alteans saw how furious he really was. 

And oh, he was  _ furious.  _ The desire to get past the glass and snap your neck like a twig only grew stronger every time he has to deal with you. The day he got out of this cell was the day you’d regret keeping him contained. 

Hopefully, the wait wouldn’t be long. 

. . . 

Haxus woke up to pain like nothing he’d ever experienced. 

There was a burning ache in his ribs, making it impossible to get enough air through the stabs of agony that came with every breath. His limbs felt twice as heavy as usual, and trying to move  _ anything  _ made things hurt all the worse. His head was pounding, a sharp line of pain throbbing along the curve of his skull, making him not dare to open his eyes. 

His whole body hurt worse than it had after the worst spar, after being cut open by an opponent until he couldn’t stand. Haxus groaned, trying to remember where he was, why anything would hurt this much. 

All at once, the memories snapped into place. The castle, the human, falling backwards and down and everything going  _ black– _

Breath snapped through him, a desperate miserable wheeze. He’d fallen that far. There was no reason why he should be alive _ ,  _ let alone in as much of one piece as he seemed to be. The thought of  _ where he was  _ hit Haxus like being slammed against a wall by something twice his size. 

Carefully, he allowed his eyes to slide open, praying that it wouldn’t hurt as badly as was expecting it to.

Bright light seared at his eyes from the first little crack, making his headache pound like it wanted to break through his skull. The world spun dizzyingly, a clear sign of a dangerous head wound, and slowly slid back into place. Haxus was in what looked like a cell, all white walls, glaring lights, and a huge window on the far wall. He was on his back, spread out flat, arms twisted behind him and, from the feel of it, cuffed, his ankles shackled together with something heavy and cold. 

Haxus’ breathing came a little faster, a little sharper. He had been on his  _ back,  _ unconscious, where anything could have found him and sliced open his midsection without a hint of resistance. A wave of nausea hit him, hard. 

Struggling to roll over, through the pain in his head and his ribs and his everything, against the weight of shackles around the thin parts of his limbs, Haxus managed to drag himself upright. It hurt horribly. Blood dripped from his head, pooling dark and red on the smooth, white floor. 

He growled on instinct, body trying to sound frightening to anything bigger that might be close by. 

How stupid. The only things here were humans and two, weak Alteans. Nothing that would be any kind of threat to a Galra of his strength. 

And yet, his mind  _ helpfully  _ reminded him, one of those weak humans had done this to him in the first place. One of those humans was the reason he was chained down like an animal and struggling to breath past the agony clogging up his chest like debris. His life was very well in their hands, now, and that thought alone sent a rush of anger through him. 

Then, he registered the feeling of something watching him. 

Haxus’ head whipped around, so fast that the world spun sickeningly along its axis. When his vision cleared, he could make out one of the humans, one he hadn’t seen before, sitting close to the glass. 

It had been  _ watching  _ him. Watching him on his back, helpless and exposed. Watching him struggle to his knees, shackled and weighed down. Watching a proud soldier of the Galra Empire crawl like a common animal on the floor, too wounded to even pull himself to his feet. 

Furious, Haxus growled again, this time sharp and angered. His claws scraped against the smooth floor, muscles flexing.

It didn’t take a genius to guess that the glass across the room would be impossible to break. The chain attaching him to a point in the floor in the center of the cell probably wouldn’t even allow him to reach it, even if his broken body would cooperate for long enough to get him to his feet. 

The human scooted a bit closer, and Haxus snarled. The room was still spinning, and every breath hurt like fire in his lungs. He was in no shape to be thinking of starting a fight, even as much as he wanted to reach the human and tear its throat out for disgracing him. What would Sendak think, seeing his second in command chained and bloodied, helpless before a lesser species? If his commander was even  _ alive.  _

“Do you find this amusing, human?” he hissed, hoping that the glass wasn’t sound-proof. “How pleasing it must be, to have your enemy in such a position of helplessness.”

The human’s eyes went wide, mouth opening in an expression of surprise that looked more like bared teeth. It leaned forwards, almost touching the glass, and looked at Haxus like he was some kind of particularly interesting specimen pinned for its personal study. 

“Uh, actually, I’d rather you weren’t chained up at all,” it said. “I really think we should get those wounds taken care of so you don’t, you know,  _ die  _ or anything. The princess says that it’s for ‘safety’, though.”

Snarling again, Haxus slid himself into a sitting position, desperate to look even a little bit more dignified. “So I’m your prisoner, then? I would have figured your allies would  _ want  _ me dead. I’ll tell you now, when I get free, I’ll kill all of you myself. For the glory of the Galra Empire, I’ll rip your throats out and present your heads to Lord Zarkon.”

He’d been expecting the threat to make you angry or nervous, not to leave a  _ smile  _ sliding across your disgusting, fleshy face. 

“I’m glad you’ve got some energy! I was thinking that you might be actually in danger of dying or something… Wait, you’re not actually dying, are you? You are kind of bloody, and Pidge said you fell a long ways.”

“Didn’t you hear me!? I’m not some comrade for you to be concerned with. I’m your enemy! I’ll make your death the worst!” Haxus was rambling now, and he knew it. The anger clouding his vision and the pain throbbing through every inch of him were making it difficult to control himself. If only, if only he could get through that glass, he’d make you wish you’d never thought to treat a Galra soldier like something for you to study. 

. . . 

Your talks with the second Galra weren’t going so well. He was even more vicious than Sendak, growling threats at you every time you tried to talk to him. Exceptionally violent,  _ creative  _ threats. 

And while you weren’t exactly deterred, you also didn’t think that you were getting very far. This Galra was hurt, badly. There was a worrying amount of blood matting the fur on his head, one of his ears was bent at an odd angled, every movement he made looked painful, and he appeared to be having trouble breathing. It was worrying, and your sympathy for the poor thing was only growing as you watched him struggle. 

After the second time you visited him (both incidents being within the same day), you went to Allura, demanding to be able to provide decent medical care. You knew it was kind of a bad idea to be so forceful about it, but you were worried, and you had to do  _ something  _ for him. 

The Paladins looked at you like you were crazy. There were complaints all around, with Pidge being the most vocal. 

But you were insistent. There was no way you were going to let this perfect opportunity to study the Galra fall apart in front of your eyes. You begged Allura to just be able to treat his wounds. Sendak was already starting to cooperate, so wasn’t it worth it for you to keep making progress? You’d never get anywhere if this one died in his cell. 

It took some pretty persistent pleading, but you at last got permission. 

A sedative was pumped into the vents of the Galra’s cell, a precaution to make sure that he wouldn’t actually kill you when you got close. 

The Galra came close to panic as soon as he realized what was happening. His eyes went painfully wide, head whipping around so fast you were sure it would make him dizzy. He screeched threats at you, at the Paladins, at whoever was giving him such a humiliating death, and you were ridiculously glad that you were the only one who could hear him right now.

He finally goes down, limbs going weak and unsteady, crumpling to the floor in an undignified heap. The sedative would last for a good couple hours, you’d been told, so you have plenty of time to work. 

The glass parts, pulls to the side, and you step inside a Galra’s cell for the first time. The air smells like blood and fear, something thick and animal. You breathe through your mouth and try not to let your excitement get the best of you. You have to fix this, not get consumed by your curiosity. 

All the Alteans were willing to spare on the Galra was a small first aid kit, but even that seems to be far beyond the quality of anything on Earth. Coran has already walked you through how to use everything. You’re thoroughly impressed with the level of Altean technology, honestly, and the only thing stopping you from asking more questions is the pressing matter of an injured Galra that you have to somehow fix up. 

And yeah, that’s  _ way _ more important. 

The Galra makes a miserable little noise when you get close, something disoriented and more frightened than angry. His blank, yellow eyes fix on you, and he tries to growl through a mouthful of fangs. 

He’s all sharp angles and pointy bits, like somehow natured decided that being made of knives would be ideal. Even crumpled on the floor, he’s bigger than you, tall and lean in a way that no human could be. His limbs are so long that they’re almost disproportionate, and even from this angle, you can see that his features are unnaturally sharp. 

Your first thought is that he’s beautiful. Your second thought is that that is a  _ lot  _ of dried blood. Biting your lip nervously, you sit down next to the Galra. His gaze is downright drugged, staring up at you with unfocused eyes, like he’s trying to look at some point on the far wall. 

When you brush the first hesitant touch against his head, he growls again, squirming where he lays. The drug will make it so he can’t do more than wiggle, so you should be safe from any surprise clawings. 

He has fur like a short-haired dog; silky and thin, covering his skin in a velvety layer. Your heart is somewhere near your throat that you even get to touch it, and it’s very, very hard not to spend a few minutes just taking in the inhuman textures under your hands. 

But you manage to tear yourself away. The head wound, a dark spot of broken skin and messy, crusty blood comes before exploration. 

The first thing you do is get the healing spray from the first aid kit. Coran said that it would heal shallow skin breaks and tears in muscle fairly quickly, and provide a good start for even deeper gashes. The Galra’s head wound seems fairly shallow, and while you are worried about the bone being damaged, this seems like a good enough place to start. 

You can feel the chill of the medicine when you spray it on the Galra’s head. He twitches under your hands, still growling. You imagine that he’d be making good on his threats of breaking your neck if he could move. 

From there, you fall into a pattern of finding things that need to be fixed. You work quickly, wanting to take care of anything major in the short time that you have. The whole time, the Galra makes a series of very interesting noises, ranging from “normal-ish growling cat” to “drunk lawnmower”. You assume that all of those noises are meant to be intimidating, no matter how funny they sound. You also assume that he’s very, very unhappy, even drugged and out of it as he clearly is. 

You think that you’ve managed to take care of the worst of the wounds. The Galra should survive, should be able to heal from here. You honestly really wish that you could spend some time just examining him, but everyone would probably have a fit if you stay much longer. 

Whatever. You made it through touching a Galra without losing any body parts, and even is he  _ was  _ drugged, that’s a victory. 

You’re totally going to prove that handling the Galra is safe. 

As soon as you’re done convincing Allura that everything is fine, and that you’re very grateful that she let you make sure your Galra would live, you’re hurrying off to Sendak’s cell. You’d made so much progress with him last time; you can’t help but be curious where today’s talk will lead. 

It’s only when you get to the cell, and Sendak’s eyes fix on you with an unusual amount of interest that you realize that you’ve still got Galra blood on your hands, dark red crusted over the skin. 

Sendak gives you a look that is remarkably calm, considering what the situation must look like, and you try not to laugh. “Not what it looks like! The other Galra was all kinds of hurt, and Allura let me fix him up. Good news is, he should probably make it. Bad news is, um, this.”

You don’t get much of a reaction. Sendak’s posture is notably more relaxed than it has been, even though that isn’t saying much. He’s still military straight, like it’s been trained. “So, uh, do you still mean what you said earlier? About wanting to cooperate with us now?” You’re really, really hoping that he is. Part of you still feels sure that he’s just tricking you, that he’ll take it back any second, but you’re also finding it pretty hard to care. 

“Yes, I meant what I said,” Sendak says, still sounding amazingly dignified for someone in his position. “It would be more beneficial for my own survival to cooperate with you, would it not?”

Yeah, he’s lying through his teeth. Not like anyone else needs to know that, though. You’ll make friends with your Galra yet. It doesn’t matter if he’s faking right now; that’s still progress, and you fully intend to keep making progress until you get somewhere more genuine. 

“That’s good!” you reply, acting like you’re not aware he’s lying. “Allura’s been mean lately with you guys, but she’s not  _ heartless.  _ If you’re serious about not being our enemy anymore, I’m sure she’ll be willing to let me make some changes. That cell can’t be comfortable, huh?”

The slightest flicker of annoyance crosses Sendak’s face. Something about what you said must have upset him. Weird. You didn’t think you said anything bad, but that’s all the more reason why you need to get more studying in. Making a mental note that any comments about his cell are a bad idea, you settle in for more questions. 

“So, the other Galra hasn’t exactly been as cooperative as you, and I haven’t gotten a name out of him yet… Would you be willing to tell me what I should be calling him? I feel kind of bad with “the Galra” and all.”

It takes Sendak a minute of thinking, like he’s weighing whether or not telling you his ally’s name would be a good idea. 

“Haxus,” he says, after a moment, looking like saying the words makes him sick. “His names is Haxus. I assume you’re going to want more information about him?” 

“Yeah, if you’re willing. I’m not, like, gonna press if it’s stuff you shouldn’t be telling me, but I’d like to know!” He’s definitely trying to act like the cooperative prisoner here, and even though you’re well aware he’s faking, there’s no way you’re turning down a chance for more information. “So, what’s your relationship? You were on the same ship, right? I don’t know anything about Galra military structure, so I’m not even going to try to guess what that means. Was he your subordinate or something?”

“Yes, Haxus is my subordinate,” Sendak says in a carefully calm tone. He’s really doing a good job of pretending to be friendly now. “He is my second in command, and a very skilled officer. He’s been under my direct command for… I believe the Earth term is ‘years’?” 

“Ohhh, that makes sense. So what about you? You’ve acted like you’re really important, so I take it you’re pretty high ranking? Or were?” Ah, the joys of learning about alien culture. Even if so far it seems like pretty standard military stuff. Hopefully there will be some cool differences soon.

“I was one of the highest ranking in Lo–, ah, Zarkon’s army.” He actually corrects himself, even looking like it makes him sick to drop the honorific on his leader’s name. “I’ve served the Galran Empire for longer than you’ve been alive. Years of loyalty and excellent service advanced my rank, and of the time of my capture, I was among the top command.” 

There’s obvious pride in Sendak’s voice. Military service must be considered commendable in Galra culture, vital, even. 

“However, as I’ve told you, I value my own life above this position,” Sendak continues. “What I did, I did to survive, and I do not intend to die here. I’d sooner give up my rank than perish in a cell.”

He’s really selling it. It would be convincing, if you hadn’t already figured out that this Galra wasn’t the type to cave on anything. Even so, you smile like you agree, like you’re oh-so-happy that he’s cooperative, and move on to the next question. There will be time to deal with his ruse later, after you’ve learned some quality information about the Galra. 

. . . 

The lies left a bitter taste on Sendak’s tongue. Disgracing the Galra Empire in such a way would have been grounds for a painful execution, and even if it was necessary for making his escape, every treasonous word felt like rejecting everything he’d spent a lifetime serving. 

He’d betrayed Haxus as well, giving away so much about his subordinate’s rank and identity to the enemy. 

You’d surely become a thorn in Haxus’ side as well, using your newfound information to dig for what you wanted to know. Sendak wished all the more that he could put the both of them out of their misery. Victory or death was what Sendak had lived by for a lifetime. And here, death was seemingly like the increasingly better option. 

Fortunately, you were easy to fool. You ate up every lie he told you, believing every word without a hint of doubt, too clouded by your curiosity to think that he could be deceiving you. The only bearable part of his lies were that they were working, that soon, he’d be free from this cell. 

The next time you came to talk to him, you brought a plate of the standard goo used to feed armies for millenia. After not eating for so long, Sendak’s gut cramped miserably at the sight. Sendak was more than capable of not  _ showing  _ any reaction, but biology was another matter. As large as he was, going so long without food had left him weak and slow. A lack of sleep only complicated the matter, turning his own body against him.

“Good morning!” you chirped, shrill and annoying. “Allura finally agreed to let me give you something to eat! I’m going to come into your cell now, so please don’t try to bite me or anything.” Trusting. Disgustingly so. 

The glass blocking off Sendak’s cell parted, and you stepped inside. Some instinct, unable to stand being so  _ vulnerable,  _ made him flinch. 

Sendak was sitting on the floor, almost in the center of the cell. Alarm bells were ringing in his head, screaming that, weak as he was, exhausted from lack of food and rest, he needed to be somewhere less exposed. He’d been left in the direct center of a bright room for what felt like an eternity. The light had left him with a near constant headache. The openness left him feeling pathetically like he needed to escape, to  _ hide.  _

You walked towards him with nothing less than confidence. As if a creature of his size and strength couldn’t tear you limb from limb. 

Having another creature so close while he’s chained and vulnerable sends an instinctive spike of panic through him. His stump aches, every part of him aware that you’re close while he’s utterly helpless. 

Sendak chokes down the feeling of being cornered, and tries not to growl. You’re harmless. It’s merely his time in captivity getting to him.

“Uh, I know you’re probably not going to like this, but I’m going to have to feed you. No one’s willing to undo the arm restraint, so I don’t know what else I can do…” You trailed off, as if Sendak couldn’t survive one more hit to his already trampled pride. 

“If that’s necessary, so be it.” For the sake of the ruse, he had to conceal the growl rising in his throat at the very thought. 

You smile, all blunt teeth, and offer a large spoon of the grey goo. Military grade, Sendak notes. Tasteless and sticky, the same recipe that has been used for centuries. Wishing he could bite your hand off instead, he takes the offered food, rough tongue licking the spoon dry. His stomach twists viciously at the first food to enter it in who knows how long. 

You’re quick and efficient, not drawing out the humiliating process any longer than necessary. A small mercy. The plate of goo is nowhere near enough of a portion for a Galra his size, and it’s gone in minutes, leaving an ache in Sendak’s stomach almost greater than before. He hasn’t been this hungry, this weak, since his earliest days of training, back when the limits of every Galra soldier were tested, and the frail would perish. 

The goo was as tasteless as anything offered in the Empire, but Sendak still finds himself licking at his teeth for any trace of salt, of flavor. His gut aches for real meat, for anything filling enough to make his stomach quit feeling like it’s trying to chew through his abdomen. 

Miserably, he realizes that the small amount of food has made him even more acutely aware of just how hungry he is. 

“That wasn’t enough, was it?” you ask, looking genuinely  _ upset  _ that you couldn’t feed your prisoner properly. Pathetic. He’s the enemy. You should be taunting him with food by now, not fussing over if he’s had enough. Your species is defective, caring so much for another. 

“It was adequate,” Sendak insists, unable to hide the low growl in his voice, the frantic tone that he hopes your primitive ears won’t pick up on.

“I’ll bring more later. Promise. And, uh, this is going to be a really weird question that Allura would probably kill me for, but can I touch you? Nothing weird! Just to see what the texture of your fur is like. It’ll be super quick, so please don’t bite me for asking or anything,” you ramble, and Sendak bristles. The  _ last  _ thing he wants is a human’s hands on him.

“Very well. I can tolerate it.” For the sake of appearing cooperative, harmless, he has to put up with it. This is an ideal chance to prove that he’s no longer a threat, that you can put your soft, claw-less hands near him and not have them torn off. 

Your face lights up with undisguised happiness. Disgusting. 

You raise a hand, and Sendak forces himself not to flinch. Even though you haven’t made any threats, never has there been a time when touch from another didn’t somehow equal pain. It’s unnatural to open himself up to contact. It goes against every survival instinct he has. In this moment, he doesn’t have much of a choice. 

The first contact comes to the side of his face, where his fur is thick and long. Instead of pulling, instead of scratching, you comb claw-less fingers through the fur experimentally. 

It doesn’t hurt.

An instant later, you’re done. Eyes wide with delight, you start rambling again. Thanks, questions, Sendak doesn’t know. 

His skin burns where you agitated the fur, tingling with a sensation unlike anything he’s ever experienced. You didn’t do anything to hurt him. The touch was more gentle than anything a Gala would have been capable of, and all it should have done was serve as another reminder of why your defective species fails at survival on even the most basic levels. 

Instead, the mismatched signals are crossing over, irritating like fur rubbed the wrong way. It has to be the time in captivity getting to him. He feels dizzy, agitated, like something  _ more _ was supposed to happen. 

“I think I’m making progress!” Your voice finally registers, still rambling. “I mean, no one really wants to trust you yet, but I’m insisting, you know? Allura just wants information about the Empire and stuff, but you’ve been really cooperative with that, and I think she’s starting to cave. Maybe you’ll even be able to get out of the cell soon!”

His scheme is working. You’re trusting him, just like he expected a human to. Sendak thinks, distantly, that he should feel more satisfied. 

You leave after that, and Sendak is left alone again. The cell is getting to him, he thinks. He’s seen prisoners go crazy when left alone in compromising conditions. The lights, the open room, the lack of sleep. It all must be accumulating, messing with his head and swaying his thoughts. 

It’s all the more reason why he needs to get out of here. The sooner he’s away from this cell, the sooner all of you are destroyed, the sooner he’s back with the Empire where he belongs, the better. 

His scheme is succeeding. You’re falling for the trick like the lesser species you are. You’re beginning to think that he’s safe, that his loyalties to the Galra Empire really have been severed. You and all of your allies are believing that he chose survival over blind allegiance. 

He’ll be free from this miserable cell yet, and when he is, every one of you will pay for every instant of humiliation you’ve put him through. 


End file.
